


Family Values

by giggy_milkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Ian and Mickey 7 years from now..., Ian and Mickey as co-parents, M/M, Post-Canon, We all need some happy after season 5, Yevgeny is a sweetheart, everyone is mentioned!! except Frank :-)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:18:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giggy_milkovich/pseuds/giggy_milkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7 years in the future, Ian and Mickey find happy. It's not always easy, it's not always free from complication, but it's pretty fucking perfect in all its imperfections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Sickness...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [imaginebughead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginebughead/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody's gotta start somewhere. Let's say January, 7 years from now.

“How is he?”

The back screen door clattered against the frame, the bottom hinge broken and rusted as Mickey trudged through. Mandy jumped at the sudden noise, eyes following her brother’s toward the bedroom across the way. He’d just finished speaking—screaming—to Ian’s doctor about the change in his condition, his tattooed knuckles taut and white where he held a death grip on his phone. The rest of him fought against the urge to hurl the piece of shit at the wall.

“Still in bed. Made him some toast earlier…I think he took a few bites,” Mandy replied lowly. She had offered to stay home and look after her best friend while Mickey worked at the auto shop, the two of them still nervous to leave him alone for long.

“Meds?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t moved all day but he looked better than last time.” She picked up her mug of lukewarm coffee and padded across the wood floor back to her room.

He sighed, knowing all too well that “better” took on a whole new meaning with Ian. Better meant awake; better meant alive; better meant he wasn’t really getting any “better” but they were all getting more used to it, “sticking to a routine” as Dr. Prick had put it. The little seesaw in Ian’s brain kilted a little farther down now, so they all did their best to hold out for a closer balance, pushing every now and then against the heavy weight that now consumed the old house and the man trapped inside of it.

Mickey grabbed a beer from the fridge and made his way to the worn leather couch in the living room. As he sank into the cracked cushions, he took a large gulp and swallowed, the taste bitter but familiar on his tongue. He rubbed at his eyes with his palms and tried to steady his breathing. _In, out, in, out._ It’d been seven years since Ian was diagnosed, and with each rise and fall, Mickey never failed to get swept into his current. He’d grown accustomed to the waves, none as strong as the first few years, but each left him winded just the same.

 

“Dad! Dad! Guess what?!” The young voice sliced through the silence like a siren, high-pitched and frantic. The front door swung open and smacked against the wall.

“ _Shhhhhhh!_ Not so loud, Jesus Christ,” Mickey answered back, waving his son over to where he sat. 

“Look! I got a B on my math test!” Yev thrust the wrinkled paper in Mickey’s face, adorned with a gold star that shimmered in the afternoon light. The boy’s smile beamed just as brightly, aside from an empty space where a baby tooth had once been.

“That’s great, kid. Nice job.”

“Where’s Een? I wanna show him!” Yev scanned the room before running over to Mickey and Ian’s bedroom.

Before he reached the doorknob, Mickey hopped off the couch and yanked his arm back. “No—Yev—no, not now. He’s sleeping.”

“ _Still_? He was sleeping yesterday, too,” Yev whined, disappointment dripping from each word. “Is he sick?”

Everyone had purposefully kept the truth about Ian’s illness from Yev in the past, Mickey sending him to stay with Svetlana earlier than planned or dropping him off to stay with Fiona and Liam. “He’s too young” or “it’s too complicated” was the usual excuse whenever the thought of telling him had previously come up. But Ian had been more or less a ghostly presence around the house for the better half of a week and Yev had definitely taken notice.

Mickey sighed deeply and rubbed a hand down his face. Tilting his head back to the couch, he said, “C’mere.”   

Yev sat on the couch as Mickey sat on the coffee table in front of him, hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees. His foot tapped lightly against the scratched table leg.

“You know how I told you Ian gets really tired sometimes and needs to rest?”

“Yeah?” Yev replied, meeting his gaze with curious eyes. 

“Well, uh…well Ian has this thing called—” Mickey paused, making sure that Yev was still following him. He stumbled on his words. “—well it’s…it’s this thing…and sometimes it makes him really happy and other times it makes him real sad. And right now, it’s making Ian sad.” 

Yev took in his father’s words, staring blankly for a moment. “Can we make the thing go away?” 

It was then that Mickey realized exactly why they’d kept it all from Yev for so long. That face, that feeling of childish confusion and innocence. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt it himself, but he silently hoped his own son could cling to it for as long as possible. No other Milkovich had ever been lucky enough to keep it.

“That’s not exactly how it works, kid. It’s better if we just leave him alone right now.” 

“Oh.” Yev nodded, discouraged by the news. He didn’t want Ian to be sad, but he also didn’t quite know what “this thing” his father mentioned really was. Nevertheless, he was determined to fight against it. He slid off the couch, tossing his backpack and paper on the ground as he hurried into the kitchen. 

“Ay, Yev, whatcha’ doing? Get down off there!” Mickey quickly joined Yev in the kitchen, watching as the boy stood onto the counter and dug through the top cabinets, pulling down a box of Bisquick pancake mix and a mixing bowl. 

“I’m making Een pancakes,” the boy said as though it were obvious. He turned back toward the cabinets and pulled out a second bowl and a plate.

Mickey’s stare melted from annoyance to acceptance, too exhausted to argue with him. It was getting late and Ian still hadn’t eaten much of anything, so maybe the boy’s plan would work. It’s not like they had anything to lose. 

“Okay, okay, just don’t go making a whole ‘lotta noise. And here,” Mickey wrapped a strong arm around Yev’s waist, lifting him back down to the floor. He then leaned down to grab the old iron skillet from the bottom cabinet. “Go get an egg and the butter.” 

Fifteen minutes and two pancakes later, Mickey scooped the golden cakes onto a plate and switched off the burner. Yev slathered them both in extra butter, just the way Ian liked. Holding the plate and a bottle of Gatorade, they made their way to the closed bedroom door, Mickey leading in front while Yev lagged behind. He twisted the knob and opened the door enough to peak his head in; Ian lay with his back facing them, stiff but awake if his shallow breathing was any indication. 

Mickey turned back, looking down at his son who stood behind him. The kid looked scared. He didn’t blame him. Although Yev had seen Ian “sick” before, this time he knew why, even if he didn’t know the full story. “He’s okay, c’mere I’ll show you.” He nodded toward the open door, reaching out his arm to take the smaller hand, gripping the clammy fingers that grabbed his own.

 

They tip-toed around the foot of the bed, stepping over discarded laundry and sneakers to where Ian was curled up on the opposite side of the bed. Mickey placed the bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand before glancing at Ian. His eyes were puffy and red, and his mop of orange hair was thick with matted curls. For someone so strong, he always looked so small like this, more like a body made of cracked stained glass than the titanium he usually wore, at least for Yev’s sake. The young boy squeezed his father’s hand tighter, and Mickey squeezed back to reassure him. 

“Een? Are you awake? 

Ian made no attempt to look up at the boy, his eyes growing glassier before he blinked.

“I made you pancakes...” Yev said softly, moving the plate closer to Ian’s face. Ian shifted his body deeper under the covers, turning his face into the pillow. Mickey tensed, worried that bringing in Yev had was just making things worse, until Ian struggled to push himself up on his forearms, turning back around to face the two boys standing in front of him. Mickey leaned over to prop up the pillows behind his back.

Yev sat on the edge of the bed, placing the plate of pancakes on Ian’s lap. “I put extra butter on them, too.”

Ian looked up with watery eyes before picking up his fork and cutting through the small stack. He stabbed a small bite and brought it to his lips, chewing slowly as Yev shoulders dropped some of the tension cased inside of them. Ian was eating. He wasn’t talking, but he was eating. Sometimes progress came in the form of small bites and weak smiles, but it was progress all the same. 

Time moved slowly in that bedroom, on that bed. Mickey counted the minutes with each dry swallow of pancake Ian took, passing him the bottle of lemon-lime Gatorade and then counting the gulps. If only for a few moments, Ian’s seesaw tipped up a little more.

Ian took two more bites before placing the half-eaten plate on the nightstand, shifting back down flat on the mattress. Mickey rose from his spot by Ian’s feet, placing a gentle hand on Yev’s shoulder.

“Let’s let Ian sleep a little more, bud.”

Yev looked up, the light fading from his ice blue eyes. He had wanted to know and now he knew. The thing is, seeing “the thing” up close was hard, but leaving it to consume Ian was even harder for the 7-year old. “Ok.” His eyes gazed over Ian one last time before he reached down and buried his face in Ian’s neck, his short arms stretching across as much of the motionless body as he could. Ian sunk deeper into the bed but didn’t resist the boy’s embrace. “I love you. Feel better,” Yev whispered against his skin, willing the quiet man to absorb the words. He slowly pulled away and pressed a light kiss to Ian’s cheek, now damp. He was careful not to move too fast as he hopped over Ian and rolled across Mickey’s side of the bed before pushing off and walking back out into the living room.

 

Mickey checked to make sure Yev was out of view before leaning down and planting a kiss on Ian’s forehead, running a hand through his oily curls and rubbing the skin of his ear with his thumb. His own words hummed against Ian’s skin and vibrated through his bones. 

“I love you, too.”


	2. And in Health...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months later. Something happens. Then something else happens.

The day’s events blurred seamlessly before turning to black, small flashes breaking through the darkness now and then. Mickey had picked up a double shift plus overtime, so Ian was left to look after Yev for the night. After Ian helped Yev with his spelling homework, the two decided on meat lover’s pizza (extra bacon) and some old kung-fu movies Ian found lying around the house. The little boy bounced and jumped on the couch, trying his best to mimic the kicks and spins, only succeeding in knocking over a cup of soda and kicking Ian in the shin.

“Ow! Hey, easy on the kicks, little man. You’re knocking stuff everywhere.” He gripped Yev’s arm where it was swinging dangerously close to the side of his face.

“Sorry,” Yev replied, hopping down to pick up the fallen cup and wipe up the mess with some leftover paper napkins. 

“Here, it’s still sticky. Wait a sec.” Ian got up and walked over to the kitchen, feeling a heavy rush to his head as he stood. His vision began to tunnel, the edges growing black and spreading. He reached out to grab the wall, bracing himself as his eyes watered and blinked back against the pull into unconsciousness. Yev heard the heavy thump before he saw him.

 

 

Mickey pulled out his phone, checking the caller ID before sending the call to voicemail. Ian usually called him when he worked late, mostly to rile him up or tease him for when he got home later in the night. He could’ve used the welcome distraction if not for the pile of paperwork his boss had left him, along with the aggravated customer he was currently attending. 

The phone buzzed twice more immediately after. Ian never kept calling if Mickey didn’t answer the first time, so uneasiness crept in the back of his thoughts. 

“..yes, ma’am, I know that’s an extra $600 but we have to order to the part special for ya,” Mickey responded to the woman screaming in his face. He was surprised he’d been able to keep his cool for so long. “Yes, I understand that, but like I said—” _Buzz. Buzz._ “Excuse me, one sec.” 

He jogged into the employee office, clicking over to the call. “Hey Ian, I’m a little busy but—” 

“Dad?! Dad, Ian won’t wake up! Hefellandhewon’twakeupandIcalledFionabutIdon’tknowwhattodo!” 

Mickey’s heart rattled against his ribcage, thumping erratically, worse case scenarios spinning through his head. “Slow down, slow down. What happened?!” 

"I don't know! He just fell and I keep shaking him but—"  
  
"No don't shake him! Just—" Mickey tried to calm himself down as best as he could. "He's still breathin', right?"  
  
"Yeah," Yev said, his voice shaking. Mickey heard the faint sound of a door open and Fiona's voice in the background.  
  
_"Shit! Ian?! Ian!"_ Mickey heard her say. _"Is that your dad? Here gimme_ _the phone and go outside with Liam."_ There was a muffled reply and the shuffling of footsteps. "Hey Mickey, he's gonna be okay. Looks like he just fainted." Fiona covered the receiver. _“Hey, hey, Ian don’t move sweetie.”_  
  
Mickey's voice hitched at the back of his throat. "He hurt?! Lemme talk to him!"  
  
"I don't know but the ambulance is here. I'm gonna take Yev back to my place. Can you make it to the hospital?"  
  
"Yeah, uh--yeah. I'll be there in 15. Thanks." He hung up the phone and scrambled around the small office, getting Adam to cover his shift.  
  
The ride over to the hospital was surprisingly traffic-free, the universe finally working in his favor for the first time all day. Mickey parked in the short-term lot and stormed through the doors, running to the emergency room front desk.  
  
"Hey, my boyfriend just came here—Ian Gallagher," he spoke in quick huffs of heavy breath.  
  
The nurse tapped her fingers across the keyboard. "Let me see...Yes, he just checked in, but I'm sorry, only immediate family and spouses are allowed back."  
  
Mickey blinked twice, stunned as his cheeks grew hot with frustration. "You don't understand, I'm his family and I need to see'm."  
  
The nurse sensed that he wasn't backing down anytime soon. "Sir, I'm sorry but it's hospital policy. I can let you see him once he's transferred from urgent care, but that's all I can do. If you can get in contact with a family member--"  
  
"A fam—but he _is_...fine, yeah fine, whatever." Mickey scoffed, waving a hand before grabbing the stack of hospital forms and walking to the sitting area. He cursed under his breath as he scrolled through his contact list, searching for Lip's name.

 

 

The waiting was unbearable. Mickey's legs shook as his flipped through every tabloid on the table beside him. He'd called to check on Yev and calm him down, promising that Ian would be okay. He made the promise to himself, too.  
  
Lip swung the doors of the patient wing, pushing up his jacket sleeves and adjusting the cigarette behind his ear.  
  
"Hey, the doc said he's gonna be alright. Just fainted from the meds, it’s one of the symptoms. A little banged up from the fall but nothing major. They wanna keep him overnight, though. Try out a new dosage."  
  
Mickey stared up at the brown haired man, nodding and pressing his hands to his temple. He tried to let the relief settle in but found himself still shaking.  
  
"C'mon, let's get some air." Lip started toward the exit, motioning for Mickey to follow. He rolled the loose cigarette between his fingers.

 

 

"I can't fucking take this," Mickey exhaled, blowing the cigarette smoke through his nostrils.

  
"Take what?" Lip asked.

"This—not being able to see him. These homophobic medic fuckers always do this, treat me like I'm a fucking stranger or some shit. Doesn't make any fucking sense. I've been with him for 9 fucking years, that sound strange to you?”  
  
Neither man spoke. The sound of tire wheels and the faint rattling of hospital gurneys echoed through the air.  
  
Lip tapped his finger against the side of his cigarette, knocking ashes to the sidewalk below.  
  
"Have you, uh, thought about making it official?"  
  
"Making what official?"  
  
You and Ian, you know? Getting married?" Lip shivered lightly from the small chill hanging in the early spring air.  
  
The word shot from his lips like a silent bullet. Of course Mickey had thought about it.  Once Svetlana got her citizenship papers, they divorced and split custody of Yev. Mickey had been the first one to bring it up to Ian but he'd dropped the subject, knowing how complicated Mickey's outlook on marriage had been. Granted, him and Svetlana had made it work, but like Ian had known, it was complicated.  
  
Lip continued, breaking the silence. "I mean, it's legal here anyway, and there's gotta be more benefits than just hospital visitation rights."  
  
Mickey just sucked in another breath from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs before it blowing out slow.  
  
"S'worth at least looking into, right? Can't hurt."  
  
" _You_ of all people want me to marry your brother..."  
  
Lip chuckled through his teeth. "You say that like you two haven't been married this whole time. All I'm saying is, if a piece of paper can make your lives a little easier, why not? Might as well put a ring on it, anyway." Lip gave a light slap to Mickey's back before crushing his cigarette butt under his boot. "I'm gonna go ask how long before he gets transferred."  
  
  
Mickey spent the night in the waiting room, fighting sleep with watery coffee from the vending machines and bad infomercials. By dawn, a room had finally opened up and they transferred Ian, Mickey following quickly behind. Aside from a small bruise above his left eyebrow, he looked the same; he even looked well rested.  
  
"Hey, tough guy," Mickey said softly as Ian's eyes fluttered open.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Even in a hospital bed, Mickey swore he'd never seen a person more beautiful.

 

  
  
They released Ian a few hours later with a new dosage and some mild pain meds. The car ride back to their neighborhood was quiet, Mickey rubbing circles into the back of Ian's neck as he focused on the road. "You hungry?"  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
Mickey smirked, scratching the base of Ian's curls.  
  
They picked up their usual orders from Patsy's to-go, settling for a makeshift brunch in bed instead of a booth. They lay sprawled out on the covers, Ian nibbling at his last bits of banana pancake while Mickey picked at a piece of bacon omelette.  
  
"How you feelin'?"  
  
"I'm fine, Mick, really." Ian shoved a bite between his lips, dropping his fork back down to stab a glob of cheese from Mickey's omelette. "How's Yev?"  
  
Mickey looked down at his boyfriend's guilty green eyes. He rubbed a hand over his thigh. "You scared him pretty good, but he'll be okay. Fiona's watching him back at the house."  
  
Ian nodded before moving the empty food containers to the floor and snuggling closer to Mickey. He wrapped an arm around the older man's waist and shifted his own legs between his. "Thanks for staying at the hospital. Lip told me you kept begging the nurses to let you back."  
  
Mickey let out a sleepy laugh. Of course Lip would tell him that. He silently wondered what else Lip had told him. "I wasn't _begging_...and of course I stayed." Mickey kissed the top of Ian's head where he rested against his soft chest. "I love you. Besides, you got me away from this bitch of a customer at the shop, so I guess I gotta thank you."  
  
Ian slapped Mickey's side playfully before running a hand underneath his shirt and kissing the tender skin beneath.

 

 

The two napped well into the afternoon, the sun dropping low on the horizon.  
  
"Shit..." Mickey scrunched his eyes in the light that bathed the room. He checked his phone on the ledge behind the bed. 6:30pm. 2 missed calls and a voicemail from Fiona.  
  
"Ian, Ian," he whispered softly, running a soothing hand over the man's bicep. "I'm gonna go pick up Yev. I should be back in 20."  
  
Ian spoke groggily into Mickey's shirt, wiping the side of his mouth where he’d been drooling. "No, I'll go. After everything that happened…"  
  
Mickey didn't resist, instead giving Ian's arm a light squeeze. They rolled up and out of bed, slipping on their shoes and jackets.

 

 

Ian tip-toed up the small back staircase, making his way toward his old room, now just Liam's. Mickey followed close behind before drifting off to use the bathroom.  
  
"Hey Liam," Ian waved to his brother sitting across the small room. He was playing games on the Gallagher laptop.  
  
"Hey—oh hey Ian! You good?" He turned his head, pausing the game on the screen. "Fifi told me about your fall."  
  
"Yeah I'm good, just…uh…fainted."  
  
Liam nodded, never asking much from Ian. He motioned towards Yev who was asleep in his bed. "He's been out for hours, barely slept last night."  
  
Ian stepped closer to the bed, crouching down to meet the small boy face to face. "Hey, Yevy, wake up." He rubbed small circles into his back.  
  
Yev stirred, gradually opening his eyes. "Eeeen?...Een!" The boy sprang up, pushing back the blanket to latch around Ian's neck.  
  
"Hey, little man." He held him close, pulling back for a moment to see Yev's face, but Yev wouldn't let him. Instead, he picked him up and hugged him even tighter. "It's okay, I'm okay. Sorry for scaring you like that."  
  
Mickey leaned against the doorframe quietly admiring the two loves of his life embracing one another. He'd find a way to make sure they never had to stop.

 

 

Later that night, Yev slept soundly between Mickey and Ian, his head resting in the crook of Ian's armpit. For such a small kid, he took up most of the space. His arms and legs were spread out across the two of them, one arm still wrapped around the side of Ian's neck and a cold foot tickled Mickey's thigh.

  
Mickey watched his favorite boys sleep for a while before inching his way off the bed, careful not to wake either of them. He shut the bedroom door behind him and made his way towards Mandy's room to grab the laptop they all shared.  
  
He sat at the dining room table nursing a beer while scanning website after website. The notebook paper beside his computer was littered in poorly written scrawl, his only light source the glow of the computer screen. He strained his eyes in the darkness scribbling down note after note.  
  
Ian groaned, still half-asleep as he awoke to the sound of deep snoring. Yev lay across his chest now, emitting the loud noise with each breath. Ian tried covering his ears with a pillow, but it was no use. He maneuvered himself beneath the sleeping body, pulling away from his grip and slipping out from under the covers. Thankfully, the kid could sleep through just about anything.

Mickey heard the door’s familiar creak before he saw his shadow from across the room.

“Sorry. I wake you up?” Mickey whispered, his face aglow in the stark light of the screen.

“No, you’re good. If anything, it was Yev’s snoring. It’s like sleeping next to a tank.” Ian padded towards Mickey, closing the gap between them. “Ain’t it a little late for porn?” He stood behind Mickey’s chair squinting at the bright screen below. 

“Ha-ha, very funny. Nah man, if you really wanna know I’m doing research.”

“A Milkovich doing research…for fun?! You planning a heist or something?” Ian rested his chin on Mickey’s shoulder, letting his arms fall against the smaller man’s chest. He scanned the open webpage, mouthing the words as he read. “‘Joint healthcare for married partners’…‘Illinois same-sex marriage rights and privileges’…” He leaned back to stare at Mickey, his expression tinged with confusion and surprise. Mickey’s was warm with nervousness and hesitation. “Wait—you wanna get married?" 

“You proposing?” Mickey countered, smirking to ease the tension that now filled the air between them. 

“Mick…”

Mickey took in a deep breath and let the words fall from his tongue like a waterfall. “Those assholes back at the hospital never let me see you just because we’re not married—” 

“I know—”

“—and what if it had been worse? It’s _been_ worse and they still didn’t let me in that time, either. And what if Lip or Fiona or whoever wasn’t around? I just…I wanna be able to fuckin’ take care of you—”

“Mickey, you _do_ take care of me—” 

“—but _they_ don’t see that.” Mickey gestured to the space in front of them, the countless number of people who didn’t take them seriously, who didn’t know how much they’d been through and just how much of them belonged to the other. “And even if they do, they don’t care unless we have a paper to prove it.” 

Ian let his boyfriend’s words sink in and marinate in his mind. “You wanna marry me?”

“You asking?” 

“I’m proposing.” 

Mickey froze, taken off-guard by Ian’s sudden burst of confidence. “Ian—” 

“I’ve been doing some research, too, you know.” He pulled Mickey’s chair out from under the table, angling it in front of him before straddling his lap. “And it’d make things easier on Yev. I could put him under my health insurance at the Veterans Hospital….plus, no more sleeping in waiting rooms for you…” 

“How ‘bout no more hospital rooms for you?” Mickey whispered lowly, rubbing his hands up and down Ian’s exposed thighs, pushing up his boxers. “But we can talk about all that in the morning.” 

Ian held the hands still against his legs, moving them to his hips before running his own hands up Mickey’s arms. “Says the one with the open computer at 3am…” He reached out and gently closed the laptop, returning his hands back to their place on Mickey’s skin, now burning hot under his fingertips. Ian felt goosebumps begin to prickle on his arms.

Mickey leaned up to peck Ian’s lips, instantly deepening the kiss when Ian pulled at his shirt. Their tongues fought slowly, tasting the other’s mouth and doing everything they couldn’t find the words to convey. Mickey ran his hands under Ian’s shirt, lightly scraping his nails against the equally burning skin. 

Ian was the first to pull away, dragging Mickey’s bottom lip with him before letting go. “S’that a yes?” he breathed. 

Mickey pecked Ian’s lips one last time. “We’re already ghetto-married, guess we might as well get some perks out of it.” He broke into a chuckle, Ian following soon after. 

The taller man scooted up and off Mickey’s lap, pulling him up in the process. They made their way back to their room, settling back under the cool sheets. 

“Jesus fuck, you ain’t kidding,” Mickey whispered, turning his head toward Ian. “Kid sounds like a straight fucking motor. He threw an arm across his face. 

“That’s all you,” Ian replied simply. 

“Ah-ah—if we’re getting hitched, he’s yours, too.” 

Ian looked down at the small boy fast asleep between their bodies, his heavy humming vibrating into the mattress. He smiled lovingly. “Guess he already is, isn’t he?” 

“Yeah.” Mickey sent him a small smile before throwing an arm across both boys, scooting closer to them and pulling up the sheet. 

Ian covered the hand that now lay across his abs with his own, tracing the faint lettering in the dark. 

Mickey’s muffled voice broke the soft silence. “That’s a yes by the way, asswipe.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you something else happens.
> 
> (Oh - quick reference note: Ian works at a Veterans hospital as a nurse. He went back to school for his GED and community college in the years that passed. Mickey finally got his GED as well, and he's the manager of a local auto shop.) 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://www.thedailygiggy.tumblr.com)


	3. Yada Yada Yada, Just Get The Fuck On With It!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month later. Ian and Mickey get the fuck on with it.

“What if we just did it today?” Ian asked as he sipped at his decaf coffee, three sugars no milk.

Mickey looked up from his spot on the couch, craning his neck to stare at his boyfriend standing in the kitchen. “Toda—oh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s fucking pouring outside and it’s gonna take hours to fix that piece of shit?”

“What are you…what, no, not the car, Mick, _us_. You and me. At the courthouse. I mean, we already filled out the marriage license a month ago. We gotta do it soon.” He took a sip and set his mug on the counter.

Mickey’s blue eyes widened, his eyebrows raising suspiciously. “But today…” 

“Why not?” 

“We still don’t have shit planned.” 

“Mickey—it’s a courthouse wedding. What do you think we need? C’mon, no more excuses.” He walked towards Mickey, holding out a second cup of coffee.

Mickey took the cup from Ian’s outstretched hand. “I have _not_ been making excuses—”

“Really? So _what_ exactly would you call you blowing me at the breakfast table three weeks ago as soon as I brought it up?”

Mickey smirked, a blush creeping into his cheeks from the memory. “I don’t know… _breakfast_?”

Ian plopped down onto the cushion beside him, elbowing him softly in his side. “I’m serious. Today. Let’s do it. Carpe diem and all that shit.”

“Well that’s romantic,” Mickey scoffed sarcastically.

“It is. Now go throw on a nice shirt so I can marry your grumpy ass.”

Mickey rolled his eyes before standing up. “You’re serious.”

“Mickey Milkovich, I want to marry you.” Ian slid off the couch to get down on one knee, cupping his hands as if he were holding a ring box. They hadn’t talked about it, but they figured that neither of them had really wanted a wedding band.

“You sure…because that’s it. I ain’t gettin’ married a third time. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“I’m stuck with you now, what’s the difference?” Ian stood back up and planted his hands on Mickey’s shoulders, pushing him backwards towards their bedroom. “Now _GOOOOO_ —before I _do_ change my mind." 

“Change your mind—nuh-uh, what’d I say? You’re stuck with me.” Mickey’s eyebrow raised seductively as he pulled Ian’s waist flush against his and backed up to their bed. He fell back onto the mattress, bringing Ian down with him. 

Ian crawled up the length of Mickey’s body, straddling his hips and pressing his full weight against his fiancée’s building erection. The feeling of their bodies pressed together was warm, heavy, safe. He ran his hands down Mickey’s stomach before gripping his waist and leaning down to meet his parted lips. If Mickey closed his eyes long enough he could imagine staying like that forever, their limbs tangled around one another’s, connected from head to toe. He almost couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t like this and he smiled into the kiss, replacing his darker memories with brighter ones.

“I am…stuck with you.” Ian hummed against Mickey’s lips. “S’not as bad as I thought. I actually kinda like it.” He pecked his lips, now rosy and raw.

“You love it.”

“I love _you._ Now…you,” _Kiss._ “Shirt.” _Kiss._ Ian rolled off, immediately missing the searing body beneath him but too focused on his plans to continue. “I have the rest of my life to fuck you.”

 

 

Mickey walked in circles around the living room floor, pulling at the black tie that was currently choking his neck. “Ian, hurry the fuck up! I can smell your cologne from out here!”

Mandy opened her door, groaning from all the noise and stretched her tired limbs. “What’s with the suit and tie?” she half-yawned. 

“What? I can’t wear a suit and tie?”

“You _don’t_ wear a suit and tie.”

“Well I’m gettin’ hitched, fuck you very much.”

Mandy stilled her movements, her brother’s comment sinking in. “You’re _what_? You mean you two were serious?”

“I look like I’m kidding? Plus, you saw us come home with the license last month. What, you thought that was fake?” He pulled at his lapels before smoothing them out. 

“Holy shit, Mickey…” Mandy just stared, stunned, before giving a light punch to his arm. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!”

Mickey rubbed at the sore spot. The girl _definitely_ had an arm, even when playing around. “Ay, ay, calm your tits. It ain’t like I knew for long, either—Ian wanted to do it today.” 

“And no one was gonna wake me up and tell me?”

Ian waltzed through the open bedroom door, focusing on buttoning his shirtsleeve. “We didn’t tell anybody.”

Mandy darted her eyes back and forth between the two men, surprise still painted across her face. “Well…fuck. Congrats, I guess. Wow…” She sauntered over to give them each a quick hug. “You need me to come be a witness or anything?”

Mickey looked over at Ian, searching his eyes and finding the answer as quick as he assumed he would. “Just put some fucking pants on and hurry up, please?”

 

 

They sat on one of the benches in the back of the courtroom, waiting for their names to be called. Mickey looked down at Ian’s hands as he kept fidgeting, clasping them together and running them through his fiery hair.

“The meds?”

“No…just feels real, you know?” Ian glanced at Mickey through his thick lashes, his head turned down towards his lap.

“Hey, don’t worry. This won’t change shit between us, and if it does it’s probably for better, right?” He grabbed Ian’s hand and squeezed it. “And it’s always been real. Now it’s just gonna be legal.”

Ian gave into the smile that tickled his lips. “Hm. We’re losing our edge.”

“Pssh, speak for yourself, Nurse Gallagher. I’m still as badass as I’ve ever been.

“Uh-huh. Says the guy who has to cuddle whenever we watch horror movies. Even the shitty ones—”

“Ay, fuck you, that Chuckie doll shit was creepy as fuck and you _know_ it.”

“You wouldn’t let me straighten my hair for a week.”

“So? You know I like it curly.”

“Whatever, Mick.” Ian smirked and picked up their clasped hands, hitting the side of Mickey’s leg then lifting their arms to kiss his fingers. So they had lost a little edge; it was probably for the best.

“Ian Gallagher! Mickey Milkovich!”

The officiant called their name at the front of the room. Mickey and Ian jumped to their feet, their fingers still intertwined as Mandy doled out one last round of hugs.

“Just remember I had him first,” Mandy whispered to her brother, laughing.

“Bitch, you wish! I had to save him from you, remember?” Mickey countered, laughing along with his sister.

“Last time I checked, that tire iron to your back was me saving _me_ from _you_ ,” Ian jumped in.

Mickey feigned hurt, stepping back from Ian. “Who’s side are you on? ‘Cause this ain’t official yet—”

“Yours. Always yours.”

“You know what, nevermind. You two are so cute, it’s gross.” Mandy shook her head and checked her phone.

The sound of familiar voices quickly filled the hall, effectively ending their conversation. _“Where’s 108-B?”_ _“Was it in the other wing?”_ _“No, the guard said this way—WAIT!! I found them, they’re in here!!!”_

Ian gaped, open-mouthed, as he watched his siblings pour into the small courtroom. “What the…but how did—" 

“Mandy told us,” Fiona answered, catching her breath.”

Mickey locked eyes with Mandy. “Really?” he deadpanned.

“Oh just say thank you like a normal person, douchebag.” 

“Hey, slow the fuck down! I drive you assholes here and you can’t even wait up?” Iggy shouted from down the corridor.

“Iggy, too? Okay, seriously—”

“Wait for it…” Mandy placed her hand up, her eyes focused on the open wooden doors. 

Mickey heard him before he saw him. “Dad! Een!” Yev raced into the room, ramming straight in between them, wrapping his small arms around each of their legs. Svetlana and Iggy followed in shorty after.

“Whoa slow down, kid.” Ian chuckled, picking him up by his arms and shaking him into a big hug. 

“You marrying my dad?” Yev asked once he was back on the ground.

Ian looked at Mickey, then crouched to meet the boy at eye level. “Only if it’s okay with you.”

“Well…you buy me stuff and you don’t burn the pancakes, so guess I’m okay with it.”

Ian grinned, ruffling Yev’s dark brown hair. Mickey smiled too, before interjecting, “Cool. Now we all good to get this shit show back on the road?”

Ian linked his arm with Mickey’s. “Yeah.”

Mickey couldn’t wait to have the redhead on his arm forever.

 

 

“Do you, Ian Clayton Gallagher, take Mickey Milkovich to be your lawfully wedded husband; to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,‘til death do you part?”

“I do.” Ian gazed into the blue eyes that met his green, feeling more certain than he’d ever been. 

“And do you, Mickey Milkovich, take Ian Clayton Gallagher to be your lawfully wedded husband; to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,‘til death do you part?” 

“I do. ‘Course I do.”

Mickey beamed, no longer able to hide his excitement.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you partners in marriage. You may kiss!”

Mickey grabbed the back of Ian’s neck as soon as the words dropped from the officiant’s lips. Ian wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s waist, continuing the soft kiss before slowly pulling away. The two saw their family clapping and cheering from the front benches, but the noise fell mute in their ears. They were now each other’s in every way possible. Ian pressed his forehead to Mickey’s and pecked his lips lightly.

“You’re my husband now,” he whispered in the space between their skin. 

“That make you the bitch?” Mickey chuckled, moving their intertwined arms away before Ian could mockingly shove him with them.

“Say it.”

“ _Hussssband,_ ” Mickey replied, drawing out the syllables. “You happy now?”

Ian kissed his forehead. “Yup, more than you’ll ever know.”

“Prove it.” 

“In time.”

They turned towards their mini audience, walking over to accept the celebratory hugs and congratulations. Lip was the first to approach, patting Mickey’s back and lightly steering him off to the side.

Guess you took my advice after all,” he said, smirking like the know-it-all he tried to be.

“ _Your_ advice? Don’t be a dick, this wasn’t about you.”

“Whatever you say.” He patted his back one more time playfully. “Congrats, man. Take care of my little brother, you hear?”

“Your brother better take care of me!”

 

Ian stood across the aisle beside Svetlana, leaning over as she hugged and kissed his cheek.

“So now you’re wife?”

Ian laughed. “Husband, but…yeah.” He stole a glance in Mickey’s direction, winking when the man glanced back.

“I guess he’s not all shitty. He’s good dad now and he loves you. You’ll do good, yes." 

“I hope.”

“Was not a question,” Svetlana clarified before smiling and whispering Russian well wishes into his ear. 

 

Carl stood on one of the far benches, yelling toward his distracted siblings. “After party at The Alibi! Let’s _MOVE_ people!”

“Calm down. You’re not even legal yet, dipshit,” Debs called back, glaring at the 20 year old.

He shot her back a look. “Since when has that ever mattered?”

Fiona paused her conversation with Ian to roll her eyes, annoyed but unsurprised by the bickering from her younger brother and sister. “You guys realize you’re in court, right? Just head out to the car, will ya?" 

The Gallagher-Milkoviches slowly filed out of the room, Ian and Mickey sauntering behind the group. Their families were a handful to say the least, but now they were _their_ handful, completely.

 

 

“So you two finally got hitched!” Kev shouted, waving Mickey over to the bar. “Welcome to the married life, man!" 

“You forget I was married before?” Mickey said, dripping with sarcasm.

“You know what I mean, you and Ian. Happy for you two. Here, have a celebratory shot, top shelf.” He set out a glass and stood back to present Mickey’s options.

Mickey pointed out in front of him, laughing. “So you mean shit liquor on the shelf I can’t reach?”

“You got it, And…pop for Ian?” Kev set out another glass. 

Mickey looked up and down the bar, turning around to scan the rest of the crowded room. “Wai—where the hell did he go?” He stepped back from the bar and walked over to Fiona, sitting at a booth across the way.

“Hey, you see where Ian went?” 

She scrunched her forehead. “Hm? No, but he’s probably out for a smoke. You check outside?” 

“Not yet. Thanks.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. It’s a little to late for cold feet, right?” Fiona joked.

Mickey didn’t exactly find it all that funny. He turned on his heels and ran outside, circling around the rear and alley next door. No sign of Ian. He knew Fiona was probably right-–Ian was fine—but past memories bubbled up at the back of his throat, threatening to overwhelm him. He pushed the door open and stepped back inside, his shoes squeaky from the wet pavement.

Yev was busy darting under and around tables, chasing after Amy and Gemma while Veronica chased after them all. He changed direction when he saw his dad’s eyes plastered with worry by the door. Recognition sparked across the boy’s face. “Dad! We have to go!”

“What? Why? Hey, have you seen Ian?”

“That’s why we have to go!” Yev urged, pulling at Mickey’s arm. “We have to meet him!”

“Where? What’d he tell you?”

“It’s a surprise—come on!” 

Mickey grabbed his son’s jacket and let him pull him back out into the chilly air, too anxious to say formal goodbyes.

 

 

Mickey gave in to the silence as he followed Yev to the familiar place, no longer needed to prod him with questions of where they were headed. The grass glimmere with flecks of rainwater as the sun finally broke through the overcast sky. Their shoes sunk into the muddier dirt patches that surrounded home plate and the path connecting first base. Yev broke away to run to where Ian stood atop the pitcher’s mound.

“You remembered the plan! Good job, bud!” Ian bent down to give the boy a high five. “Thank you.”

Yev opened out his palm expectantly.

“Really? You Milkoviches don’t play around.” The man smirked and fished out a five-dollar bill from him jacket pocket. 

“I should’ve guessed you’d be here,” Mickey called, strolling over to them. He rubbed a hand over the light stubble on his chin.

Ian pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “I’m thinking third time’s the charm.”

“Oh _really_?”        

“Really. Catch.” Ian pulled a worn baseball from his pocket and threw it in Mickey’s direction. “I found it in an old box in the basement last weekend. Didn’t know you were that sentimental.” 

“What makes you think I kept the ball all this time?” Mickey tossed the ball between his hands, caressing the leather.

“Coach Thompson only used to use old White Sox practice balls. Remember he had that shrine in his trunk?” He motioned for Mickey to throw him back the ball.

“…plus it says ‘Southside Little League’ in black marker by the stitching.” He smiled at his husband, now blushing a deep red as he approached the mound.

“So I kept it. So what?” 

“I was the last one to pitch before they kicked you out.”

“You remember?”

“I remember.” He closed the gap between them, reaching a hand out to cover Yev’s eyes before kissing the young boy’s father. 

“Eww!” Yev stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes. “Gross!”

Ian and Mickey giggled against each other’s lips before breaking apart. They surrounded Yev and tickled his sides, peppering his cheeks with kisses as he screamed and tried to wiggle free.

The three of them played catch and ran around the bases until dusk, the sun slipping back under the clouds and emitting a soft orange glow. They’d ditched their jackets in the dugout and were now lounging across the benches, eating the sandwiches Ian had packed with him. He’d never forgotten his promise to finally take Mickey out for a picnic. 

Ian pulled two soda cans out of a plastic bag, grabbing the Swiss army knife from Mickey’s coat pocket. “Shotgun: Take 3.”

Mickey smiled, holding his hand out to take the cans. “I’ll do the honors.” He laid them out on the bench before stabbing the side and passing one back to Ian. “I’ve always wanted to try this…gimme your arm.

Ian extended his arm as Mickey hooked his own around it, crossing them at the elbows before they both tipped the tops of their soda cans up and slurped from the holes. They both chugged their drinks as best as they could as Yev looked on eagerly.

“I wanna try it!”

The two men crumpled their soda cans and coughed, laughing as they belched from the carbonation. Ian pulled back to grab another can. “C’mere, kid.”

 

Mickey and Ian sat back against the wall, rubbing their stomachs under their untucked shirts. Maybe chugging three cans wasn’t the smartest idea, but it felt right in the moment. They wiped at their chins, sticky with soda. Meanwhile, Yev clung onto the metal railing above the entrance, trying to pull himself up. 

“Need some help there, Yevy?” Ian called out. He didn’t wait for a response before jumping onto his feet and rolling up his shirtsleeves. He picked up Yev by his torso and pushed him up slowly, the boy’s chin passing above the top of the bar. “See, you got it...” He held him up as Yev did four more before letting go. “Wow. You’re better than your dad!”

Mickey rolled his eyes, flashing a middle finger at Ian’s back.

Yev wiped his dirty fingers against his shirt. “Which one?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you my dad, too? ‘Cause Bobby’s mom got married to Mr. Fletcher last year and he calls him dad now.”

Ian looked back at Mickey, his eyebrows raised with happy surprise, before turning back down to Yev. He was touched by the simple question. He’d always seen himself as a father figure to Mickey’s son—and Mickey had assured him that he was as much a father to Yev as he was—but hearing the boy say it himself was an entirely different feeling. His heart warmed and he felt his eyes begin to water as he broke into a smile.

“If you want me to be.”

“Can I still call you Een?” Yev asked. He’d been calling him Een since the day he could talk.

“You can call me whatever you want.” 

Mickey smirked and shook his head, leaning against the side of the metal fence. “Shouldn’t’ve said that…” He walked over to Yev and knelt down, whispering softly into his ear and staring up at Ian with playful eyes. 

Yev closed his eyes, tightened his fists, and screeched. _“IAAAAAAN GAAAALLLLAGHERRRRR!!!!!”_

Ian looked over at Mickey with a shocked grin and ran backwards, darting away from the small boy’s grasping hands as he chased him around the field, never letting him go once he had him. Like father, like son.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks for reading and leave comments!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://www.thedailygiggy.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> This took me FOREVER to finish but I hope you like it!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://www.thedailygiggy.tumblr.com)


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